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Chapter 87 - Chapter 87 Inside

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https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon

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Chapter 87: Inside the Closet Empire

Jon's Perspective

When Jon swung his legs out of bed that morning, the usual mental fog of breakfast choices or impending math quizzes didn't stand a chance. His brain was already racing, wide-awake and laser-focused. The conversation with Jay from the night before had stayed with him—settled in deep like a splinter under the skin. It kept tapping at the back of his thoughts, demanding more than a half-hearted essay.

No, this wasn't just about turning in a school assignment anymore. It was about capturing something bigger. Something real.

Because words on a page weren't going to cut it—not for this. Not for Jay. The man had built his entire business, his entire world, from the ground up, armed with nothing but stubborn determination and hands toughened by decades of real work.

That kind of story didn't belong in double-spaced Times New Roman. It deserved motion. It needed light, sound, voice, and presence.

So Jon made a decision: he wouldn't write Jay's story. He'd film it.

By 10:00 a.m., he stood outside the nondescript warehouse that was Pritchett's Closets, holding a slightly outdated camcorder the school had reluctantly loaned him, a lapel mic he absolutely was not authorized to "borrow," and a backpack that kept twitching from within. Ghost—his ever-curious, slightly overdramatic kitten—peeked his head out of the zipper like a production assistant who'd been promised craft services.

Jon had no official approval, no scheduled interview, no adult supervision. But he had a plan.

Kind of.

Jay hated being fussed over. He loathed small talk. He had no patience for "process." So Jon figured the smartest tactic was the most direct one: show up, start filming, and pray he didn't get kicked out.

As he crossed the threshold of the office, camera already rolling, he muttered to himself, "Don't ask. Just document greatness."

SCENE ONE: The Emperor at Work

Jay was mid-bite into a sandwich—thick slices of ham, tomato, mustard, and not a single garnish in sight. He sat behind his desk like he'd been cemented there since the late '90s, surrounded by files, the computer, and the faint scent of sawdust.

Jon, crouching low and whispering into his mic like he was narrating a wildlife documentary, pointed the lens toward his subject.

"Here we observe the elusive business mogul in his natural habitat... unaware, unfiltered, completely in control."

Jay looked up, chewing slowly, eyebrows raised. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Capturing a legend. Don't worry, I'll edit out the chewing."

Jay didn't stop eating. He just waved Jon in with a grunt. "Fine. Just don't make me do one of those dramatic 'walk toward the camera while slow music plays' scenes."

Jon grinned. "Too late. Already storyboarded that."

SCENE TWO: Magical Interruption

Before Jon could get any meaningful B-roll of Jay working, the office door flew open with the force of a soap opera plot twist.

"JAY! Jon! I have arrived to bring sparkle to your little cinema project!"

Gloria stepped inside like she'd mistaken the closet showroom for the Cannes red carpet. Four-inch heels clicked confidently across the hardwood. Her scarlet dress caught the light with every movement. She was, as always, impossible to ignore.

She strolled right up to Jay's desk, wrapped an arm around his shoulder like they were co-stars in a rom-com, and locked eyes with the camera.

"This is where the magic happens!" she declared.

Jay, still holding his sandwich, deadpanned, "I'm just eating lunch."

"Exactly!" Gloria replied. "Fuel for your genius!"

Jon kept rolling. He wasn't going to miss a second of this. It might have been chaos, but it was cinematic gold. Honestly, this might be the best unscripted material he'd ever shoot.

SCENE THREE: Network or Nuisance?

Ten minutes later, just as Jon managed to reframe the shot and quiet the room, the door creaked open again—this time more hesitantly.

Like someone who was both nervous and deeply optimistic.

"Jon!" Phil Dunphy's voice chimed in before the door even finished swinging. "Heard you were making a documentary. I thought, hey, why not lend my charisma to the cause?"

He entered wearing a too-tight blazer and carrying a business card like it was a VIP pass. His smile beamed with the enthusiasm of a game show contestant mid-spin.

"I'm here to network. Mingle. Inspire."

Jay groaned audibly. "Please no."

Phil, oblivious or deliberately ignoring the tone, sauntered in and perched himself on the corner of Jay's desk like he was on set for a late-night interview.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I sold a house using only interpretive dance and a strategically placed bowl of guacamole?"

Jay shot Jon a look that could cut drywall. "This is your fault."

"I'm just documenting reality," Jon replied, zooming in as Phil gave a very awkward wink to the camera lens.

SCENE FOUR: Legacy

Later in the afternoon, after he finished interviewing the employees Jon finally got Jay alone, away from Gloria's theatrical flourishes and Phil's unsolicited TED Talk on "Feng Shui." The office had quieted down.

Now, with the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds and casting long, thoughtful shadows, Jon pressed record one final time.

"Okay, Jay. Last thing. I just need your words—your truth. What does this company really mean to you?"

Jay leaned back in his chair, glancing toward a blueprint pinned crookedly to the wall.

"This place?" he started, voice lower now, slower. "It's not just plywood and hardware. It's not about drawers or hinges. It's my life, carved into every corner."

He paused for a moment, the weight of memory settling in.

"When I started this? Nobody thought I'd pull it off. Not my old man. Honestly… not even me, some days. But every closet I built—every install, every project—I was proving something. That I could build something real. Something lasting."

He looked away, then back at Jon.

"I didn't come from money. I didn't have a head start. But I built something that outlived the doubts. And now? I got a name people remember. A legacy my kids can either carry on—or mock endlessly during Thanksgiving dinner.."

Jon didn't interrupt. He just kept the camera rolling, letting the silence say the rest.

Finally, Jay looked up. "That good enough for your little school project?"

Jon nodded. "More than enough."

EPILOGUE: Wrap Day

As Jon packed up the mic and carefully slipped the camcorder back into its case, Gloria reappeared and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Make me look fabulous, mi amor," she whispered, then flounced away.

Phil, never missing an opportunity slipped his buisness into Jon's bag. "In case you need bonus content. Or a house. Or a mentor."

Jay walked Jon to the door. He didn't smile, exactly, but his tone softened just a bit.

"You ruin my tough guy image, I'll replace your bed with a sheet of plywood."

Jon grinned. "Got it. Hardwood legacy only."

Later that night, Jon sat at his desk, uploading clips and sorting audio levels. Ghost curled up beside the keyboard, purring softly. The glow of the screen lit up Jon's determined face as he dragged the first clip into the timeline.

This wasn't just an assignment anymore. It was a tribute.

To grit. To stubbornness.

To building something from nothing.

To Jay.

To the man who didn't just build closets— He built a legacy.

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